


If you love me won't you (say something)

by crayyyonn



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/pseuds/crayyyonn
Summary: It starts with a hoodie.





	If you love me won't you (say something)

It starts with a hoodie.

Actually it starts with Jaebum shivering despite the two layers he already had on, staring at the hoodie Yugyeom had conveniently stripped out of, about ten minutes into dance practice. It laid in a mournful, discarded heap on the edge of the couch, and if anyone asks, Jaebum is merely liberating it from its misery and letting it live its best life on his body. If it also simultaneously warms him up, well, how serendipitous.

Besides, Yugyeom doesn’t look like he’ll miss it, the way he’s clowning around with Bambam in the middle of the practice room, both attempting to one up each other on the latest trending dances. Jaebum knew him getting Twitter was a bad idea from the start; he can see the droplets of sweat beading on Yugyeom’s forehead from where he is from exerting unnecessary energy.

Reaching across the couch, he pulls it on and tugs the large hood up and over his forehead. Then he continues burrowing down into the soft, vaguely sweet-smelling fleece until only his eyes are exposed to the frigid air conditioning of their practice room. Once warmth surrounds him proper, he sighs. The low-grade fever he’s been nursing for a few days now is still not abating. While it isn’t bad enough for him to want to brave the hospital so soon after his prolonged stay, it’s doing its best in making him feel miserable and grumpy.

He’ll go tomorrow if he doesn’t get better, he thinks, letting his eyes slide closed. Hyungwoong was the one who insisted he rest anyway, when he’d pirouetted a little too hard earlier and fell onto his ass from the vertigo. It was more damaging to his pride than his body to be honest, but then Jackson tattled to the choreographer about Jaebum having looked peaky for a couple of days now, and here they are.

Still, Jaebum isn’t about to deny himself a good nap. He’s just entered that drifting, barely awake state when he feels it, a palm resting on his forehead followed by fingers carding through his hair. They’re gentle and cool and feel really good, so he presses into them for more. He barely remembers succumbing to the pull of sleep soon after.

When he blinks awake, it’s to a flurry of packing and everyone rushing to leave. It’s not until he’s getting into the shower that he realizes he’s still wearing the borrowed hoodie, and makes a note to wash and return it to Yugyeom. Next week. It’s not his fault laundry day was just yesterday.

And if for a long time after, it finds home next to his pillow, only Jaebum needs to know. Yugyeom doesn’t ask for it back anyway. He never does.

 

It’s probably why he’s bewildered when, a few days later, squinting over from the driver’s seat as they idle at a stoplight on the way to the broadcasting station, Yugyeom asks,

“Is that mine?”

He quickly realizes that _that_ refers to the earring he’s wearing, one half of the pair Yugyeom first shows him one quiet, lazy evening as they were huddled up under the covers of Yugyeom’s bed. Jaebum’s has been taken over by his cats as usual, and since Mark was in a pissy mood after a tiff with this girl he’s seeing, Jaebum makes a beeline for Yugyeom’s room after his shower. It’s happening more frequently of late, sharing the younger’s more than giant bed, but it’s not like Yugyeom minds. As it is he barely pauses in scrolling through his phone when Jaebum collapses onto the mattress next to him, only clicking his tongue in annoyance when too much of the covers is pulled away.

It’s merely a token protest, Jaebum knows. After all, he lets him have them without much fight despite half his body being summarily exposed to the mercies of the air-conditioner and fan running simultaneously. Feeling magnanimous (and maybe a little bit guilty), Jaebum unrolls from his blanket burrito a little to cover Yugyeom up, smoothing it down his side maternally. He quickly stops when the small grin he gets in return makes him feel more than a little overheated.

Yugyeom had then tilted his phone at him, asking his opinion about a pair of earrings, which Jaebum now recognizes in a flash. Choosing not to give him a direct answer, he deflects with,

“It’s been on the coffee table for a week.”

The air in the car shifts as Yugyeom leans in, closer (too close!) to inspect the jewelry. It’s a tiny hoop on a short thin chain that accentuates the pale column of his neck when Yugyeom wears it. On Jaebum though, it’s partially hidden by the hair he’s been putting off cutting for a few weeks now despite the nagging of their hairdresser. He’s about to lose it all, let him have this.

Then he thinks it’s better to shave it all off right now when Yugyeom’s exhale flutters gently through the strands. Cheeks burning, Jaebum tries not to fidget from the sparks dancing across his skin.

“It _is_ mine,” comes the younger’s triumphant crowing. Jaebum rolls his eyes. He’s about to lift a hand to his ear to take it off—he can go without jewelry for a day, or rifle through the stylists’ stash, but before he does, Yugyeom continues, “Looks good on you.”

Jaebum regrets chancing a look at him then because he has that grin on his face again, the one that’s amused and fond and cheeky and sweet all at the same time, the one that only they get to see and is way too attractive on this, this giant _child_ Jaebum had nearly single-handedly raised so he should not be thinking this way, what in all hell.

It’s a good thing the light soon turns green. It allows Jaebum to combust in peace while Yugyeom’s attention is firmly back on the road.

 

Jaebum mostly forgets about the incident because Yugyeom doesn’t bring it up again, not even when the earring in question ends up permanently migrating into Jaebum’s jewelry box. He doesn’t give much thought to where the other half of the pair is until Bambam casually goes,

“Did you and Yugyeom actually get couple earrings? E to the w no wonder Jinyoung hyung hasn’t stopped complaining about you guys.”

They’re in Jaebum’s studio on the pretext of working on one of the hundreds of demos they churn out almost mechanically these days. Except they’re really there to watch YouTube videos and drink in peace, without the other members barging in on them. It’s dim enough in the tiny room that Jaebum has to squint to see Bambam’s look of mock disgust, that he doubts the younger’s ability to even clock that he’s wearing jewelry.

Then he remembers who he’s talking to. More importantly though, “Jinyoung talks about us?”

Bambam shakes his head, wagging a bony finger. “Complained, hyung. I distinctly said complained. He said you two had been disgustingly loved up recently, sleeping together all the time. Sounded slightly jealous, if you ask me.”

Jaebum snorts. Jealous? Sure, in the way best friends get petty about perceived interlopers. But it’s not like Jinyoung hasn’t known about Jaebum’s hopeless crush on the younger for forever, having realized it earlier than Jaebum himself. The knowledge had resulted in way too many secret grins and conspiratorial nudges to the ribs and a much too cryptic, “You’ll realize it soon enough,” in response to Jaebum’s increasingly agitated confusion.

It was pretty much the worst of times (Jinyoung is never modest when it comes to knowing what others don’t) until Jaebum does in fact ‘realize it’. Get hit in the face with it, more like, when Yugyeom brains him with a pillow just a touch too hard while they tussled in his bed about something trivial, then cups a half-apologetic hand to his cheek, wide, concerned gaze up close and boring into his. Life has been a roller coaster of emotions ever since.

“You and Jinyoung and Jackson need to stop all this gossiping about the group, Bambam. It’s not good for morale,” he tries, and okay, he’ll admit he had it coming when Bambam bursts into laughter, and spittle lands on his face.

 

He’s thinking about it later in the shower—and here he shudders, carefully sluicing water over his face again to rid himself of the _heose_ germs that Bambam had undoubtedly infected him with—analyzing Jinyoung’s supposed jealousy (possessiveness) and Bambam’s throwaway _I didn’t think Yugyeom would ever man up to be honest_ and the fact that he _has_ been spending a lot of time in Yugyeom’s ~~bed~~ room. He’s so deep in thought, he doesn’t realize the towel he wraps around his hips when he’s done is actually gray and not the green one he’d bought for himself until he’s walking out of the bathroom he shares with Yugyeom and nearly crashes headlong into the man himself.

“Steady,” Yugyeom laughs, large hands gripping his arms and righting him. “Hey that’s my towel!”

His eyes had strayed downward, making Jaebum feel instantly over-exposed despite them having seen way more of each other than bare chests. For fuck’s sake, he’s twenty-five and too grown to be twitterpated over some guy he has a crush on, he sternly tells his fluttering heart.

 _Except that guy is_ Yugyeom, goes the voice in his head, much too meaningfully and sounding disturbingly like Jinyoung.

He’s shaking it off when a hand slides over his shoulder and down his arm to brush against the terry cloth fabric covering his hip. It’s surprise, more than anything that makes Jaebum flinch, just a tiny bit. He instantly regrets it when the touch disappears with Yugyeom taking a large step back. He didn’t mean for him to.

“I’ll wash it for you later, you can use mine,” he offers, but the younger shakes his head.

“It’s okay, I have a spare one.”

The teasing smile from earlier has turned unsettlingly neutral, and then Yugyeom is leaving the room, long legs eating up the distance between the bathroom and the bedroom entrance. The weight in Jaebum’s chest grows heavy, settles low in his gut. Slowly, he follows suit, heading to his own room and shutting the door behind him. Three of his cats, comfortably ensconced on the bed, look up at the soft click and shift from their positions at the sight of him to make space for him on the bed.

With a sigh, he lowers himself between them, hugging Nora to him when she comes up to nuzzle familiarly against him, sandpaper tongue scraping across the stubble on his chin. He breathes in the scent of her shampoo, grounding and familiar.

He stays in his own bed that night.

 

One night stretches into a week, into two, and then it’s the week before their latest comeback and it’s all hands on deck, plus feet and whatever extra limbs available. Every waking moment is spent perfecting their performance, and some sleeping ones too—Youngjae has regressed to sleep singing with all the stress. They’re pinballed between TV stations and radio stations and practice studios and their dorms until they can no longer be sure which four walls they’re within. Their schedules are packed down to the minute with barely any time to eat, much less breathe.

Still, they’re used to it; it’s their fourth year since debuting so they have to be used to it, to the alarms that blare not two hours after falling asleep, hurried meals slurped down in dressing rooms and lurching cars, the IV drips. As usual, their designated paramedic travels with them, ready to deploy the drugs the second anyone looks like they need it, especially when their scheduled activities ramp up into a frenzied pace just days before their first live performance.

Jackson succumbs first, of course he does, his colds catch colds even on regular days. Youngjae goes next, being the one to spend the most time in close proximity to him. Jinyoung makes everyone else keep a wide berth from the sick duo, takes to sanitizing everything he can reach. It doesn’t work, because Jaebum is next in line, waking up the next morning with a throat that’s so inflamed even breathing hurts. He knew he shouldn’t have given in when Jackson pitifully asked for a mouthful of his _ramyeon_ the night before.

The hand he holds to his throat as he walks into the kitchen gives him away almost instantly. Tutting, Mark shoves a bottle of Vitamin C at him with a terse _take these_. Jaebum wants to tell him they don’t work when one is already in the throes of a cold, but his throat hurts too much to speak. So perching himself on a bar stool, he twists the bottle open, takes out two pills—more than the prescribed amount but since he figures it won’t hurt—and pops them into his mouth. Before he can swallow, a glass of water appears in front of him.

“We gotta sing later, hyung.” Ever the mature voice of reason, Yugyeom.

Not bothering to take the glass, Jaebum leans forward and places his lips against the rim to take a few sips. The water is cold from the fridge, heavenly against his sore throat. When he’s taken the pills and gulped down the entire glass, Yugyeom feels for his temperature with a palm against his forehead.

“Hm, no fever yet, maybe you don’t have the worst of it.”

Jaebum stretches into the warm, oddly familiar touch, making a face at the pain in his throat. There's a soft chuckle, and then with careful fingers, Yugyeom sweeps Jaebum’s bangs from where they’re matted on his skin with sweat and sebum. It feels nice to be coddled and cared for once in a while. Despite his penchant for hyung-terrorizing, their youngest is certainly raised right. Humming, Jaebum nuzzles into the touch, tries to grasp the wisp of a memory that’s not quite there.

It’s probably what makes him cling to Yugyeom all morning, solid, dependable Yugyeom, booting Bambam to the front seat of the van. It earns him a squawk of joy, and Mark gives him a knowing look Jaebum thinks he learned from Jinyoung. Yugyeom, on the other hand, barely reacts aside from an amused arch of a brow, nothing more, not even when Jaebum presses his shoulder lower into a better position to drift off on.

He naps well, and when he wakes it’s to Yugyeom’s arm looped securely around him, his face half buried in Yugyeom’s chest, and Jinyoung’s very prissy, “Hyung come on, we don’t have all day.” He must have gone deeper than he thought; it looks like they’ve been trying to wake him up for a while.

Groaning, he rubs at his eyes with a fist and makes the mistake of meeting Yugyeom’s eyes, curved into a smile. Up close, they’re warm and sparkling and _way too fucking pretty_ , he thinks, a little resentfully. He immediately realizes his mistake when they widen, then curve even more in pleasant surprise.

“Pretty?”

Jaebum feigns ignorance. “What?”

“Good god,” Jinyoung spits in disgust from the front, and then he’s stepping out of the car, pulling Mark with him and muttering about having to put up with idiots.

He tries to follow, but Yugyeom’s got a hold on his wrist, refusing to let go even when Jaebum clicks his tongue and tugs.

“Hyung, you think I’m pretty?”

His tone is teasing now, like he knows the answer to the question he’s not asking, and Jaebum hates him a little for being perceptive. So he tells him, “I think you’re annoying,” instead, because it’s the truth too, and pretends not to be charmed when Yugyeom presses a hand over his heart, face contorted in mock hurt.

If Jaebum has to scramble out of the van to hide the flush on his face, nobody else needs to know.

 

He stays home that night to nurse his imminent cold while the rest head out for barbecue, because _fuck solidarity we want meat_ —Mark Tuan the traitor, 2018.

It’s a little lonely and he’s a little bit hungry, so he deals with the first by turning the volume up on the TV and forcefully cuddling Odd, who’s mostly pliant when it comes to petting. He also lets the cats out of his room—with everyone gone they get free reign of the apartment—absently watching them chase each other around the living room and up and down the cat tower. As for the second… he’ll eat later when he musters up enough energy to cook. Maybe.

He’s just getting into a drama someone was watching partway on their shared Netflix account when the lock on the front door beeps. Cat in his arms, he peeks over the top of the couch.

“What are you doing here?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes as he slips off his shoes. “I live here too hyung.”

“I mean, what are you doing back so soon when you’re supposed to be at dinner,” Jaebum clarifies. He shifts to make room on the couch, brushes the cat hair away. “I let the cats out, sorry. You should probably take some antihistamine.”

Yugyeom hums in acknowledgement, busying himself with unpacking the bags he places on the coffee table. “I will, later. I brought you dinner. You haven’t eaten, have you?” He hands Jaebum the plastic spoon, carefully unseals the lid of the takeout container to reveal steaming soup.

He bought _gukbap_ . Not just any _gukbap_ but Jaebum’s favorite, from the mom and pop restaurant two blocks from their apartment. The one he goes to at least once a week, even when he’s supposed to be dieting for a comeback. The one he goes to whenever he misses home. The soup tastes exactly like the one his mom makes, something he didn’t even realize he’d been craving until he smells the distinctive aroma, and then he’s _starving_. Waving away Yugyeom’s fussing about letting it cool first, he takes a large mouthful of rice and soup.

“So good,” he moans, then immediately feels self conscious from the amused gaze trained on him. Just a bit, he’s much too hungry to really care.

He looks over at Yugyeom, intending to thank him properly, but is struck by the sight of him cradling a sleepy Nora, blanket carefully wrapped around her. Yugyeom is smiling fondly down at her, sweet. It sends a rush of warmth through him that has nothing to do with the hot soup. It’s ridiculous, how much he adores this kid. He’s ridiculous. _Goddamnit_.

“It’s alright hyung, we can be ridiculous together.”

Jaebum really needs to check this habit of blurting out what he’s thinking, although the grin Yugyeom is sporting tells him the younger doesn’t mind at all. Still, for all its cheekiness and the confidence in his words, there’s something hesitant in his expression, something shy. Something a little bit wondrous and a little bit disbelieving. It makes Jaebum’s heart grow about two sizes in his chest. He wishes he had his camera with him to immortalize it, so he doesn’t just have to commit it to memory.

Then Yugyeom puckers his lips, shattering the moment. Jaebum promptly regrets every single one of his life choices that led to this.

Rolling his eyes, he scoots sideways on the couch to put as much distance between them as possible. “No.”

He feels more than sees Yugyeom pout, although the younger gives in quickly. “Yeah, we can’t have you stinking of spring onions for our first kiss.”

If not for his darling, precious Nora, still in Yugyeom’s lap, Jaebum would have gladly thrown something at his face. Then again… setting his food down, he turns to face Yugyeom, one hand feeling behind him for a cushion.

“Gyeom-ah.”

“Yes hyung?”

Finding purchase, Jaebum takes careful aim.

**Author's Note:**

> er this is basically a 5 things jaebum borrows from yugyeom and one he stole fic? like he stole yugyeom's heart? lol
> 
> someone tell me why I always write jaebum like he’s a pining teenage girl 
> 
> also I was sick for the past three weeks so I apologize for sick jaebum I draw inspiration from rl ok
> 
> well this is dumb but i love it anyway thanks for reading


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